


A Night at the Opera

by Arelithil



Series: The Secret Life of Holos [1]
Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Canon-typical swearing, Crack, Flirting, Footnotes, Gen, Humor, Klingon Opera, M/M, Mild Injury, Pre-Series, so much gratuitous Klingon opera....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arelithil/pseuds/Arelithil
Summary: Or:Die WalküreRios brings home a date after a night at the opera. Unfortunately, the drama is only just beginning.A fun little (hah) crack fic of late-night holo-hunts, small appliances, pointy weapons, and a whole lot of gratuitous Klingon.
Relationships: Cristóbal Rios & La Sirena's Emergency Holograms, Cristóbal Rios/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Secret Life of Holos [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799299
Comments: 47
Kudos: 16





	1. An Unexpected Welcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cristobalrios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristobalrios/gifts).



> Does it still count as “my hand slipped” when it’s over 10,000 words long? =D
> 
> This is based on an idea cristobalrios and I were throwing around in the notes of this tumblr post (for some reason).  
> It’s is outside of any continuity - and quite possibly outside any sanity as well.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta Horizon who not only waited patiently while I teased this beast for well over two weeks, but also gave me the idea to stuff all my superfluous commentary and research into footnotes. And now you all get to suffer, too, starting in chapter 2, I think.
> 
>  **CW: Minor injury; vague mentions of operatic violence.** (Unless you speak Klingon, in which case it’s a little less vague, maybe?)

“I’m fine, really, there’s no need for this!”

Cris cast a quick look over his shoulder at the smiling man. “I’m not going to just leave you with a giant gash on your forehead.”

Xyr laughed — that musical laugh that sent hot shivers down Cris’s spine. “I’s hardly _giant_ and it’ll be gone in an hour. I told you Kendrians are fast healers.”

Cris stopped just short of the loading ramp and finally turned around. He let his gaze wander up to Xyr’s forehead. The almost translucent blue skin was still marred by a bright white bruise, but it did look as if the cut itself was shrinking. It no longer reached all the way down into the wispy white eyebrows, just above those mesmerizing, iridescent black eyes flecked with gold that moved across the irises like stars in a liquid sky…

_Fuck._

It took all of Cris’s self-control not to start kissing him again, but they had come here for a different reason. He took a deliberate step back and tugged on the thin wrist he was still holding, trying to convince Xyr to come on board. “Look, even if you don’t have a concussion —”

“… because I’m not a squishy-brain like you”, the other man reminded him with a laugh. Cris would have rolled his eyes if that smug, triumphant smile hadn’t been so goddamn adorable.

“— you still busted up your hand pretty good. And you can’t afford anything healing wrong if you have another show tomorrow.”

The Kendrian lifted his free hand and splayed seven delicate fingers in the air between them. Another bruise covered the knuckles where they had connected with the mouthy Klingon’s skull ridges and when he tried to flex his fingers, he flinched in pain. “Alright alright”, he finally conceded and added with the dramatic sigh of a true opera performer: “Take me to your medbay!”

Cris grinned and deactivated the forcefield blocking the entry to _Sirena’s_ cargo bay. As he led Xyr up the loading ramp, he kept talking, mostly to himself. “There’s an osteogenic regenerator somewhere in sickbay, I’m sure the EMH has mentioned it being universal, so it should work on you as well...”

“EMH?”

Cris frowned. “Right, sorry. He’s the Emergency Medical Hologram, like… a stand-in for a ship’s physician.” He shook his head. “I keep forgetting you don’t have holograms on your ships.”

“We also don’t have ship’s physicians.” Xyr shrugged. “Kendrians are —”

“Fast healers, yeah yeah.”

The large doors at the top of the ramp opened with a pneumatic _whoosh_ and a cascade of warm air and loud music rolled over the two men.

Cris stopped dead in his tracks, causing his companion to bump into him. “ _¿Qué demonios...?_ ”

Xyr leaned into Cris’s back and rested his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder. “I had no idea you preferred _Klingon_ opera”, he breathed against Cris’s neck, with a teasing chuckle. “Maybe I should have let those two denigrates earlier drag you off for a night of ‘proper music’ after all?”

“I assure you I don’t”, Cris pressed out through clenched teeth. Any thought of flirting was chased from his mind by a plethora of horrible scenarios that might be the cause of this unexpected welcome, anything from computer malfunctions to strangely cultured invaders on his ship… He turned around, forcing Xyr to straighten up again. “You should probably stay here while I find out what’s going on.”

The Kendrian regarded him with a fond smile for a moment, then he barged ahead through the open door, easily dragging the stunned captain along. Cris had no choice but to follow him into the warmth of _Sirena’s_ cargo bay.

Inside, the music became almost deafening. Whoever was responsible for this, they had cranked the volume up to max. Cris swore under his breath. He considered ordering the computer to stop the racket, but if there were intruders on the ship, maybe better not to give himself away. Instead he asked: “Computer, how many life-signs are on board right now?”

“There are two life-signs, one human, one Kendrian.”

Xyr grinned at him. “I think it’s coming from over there”, he called, making his beautiful tenor rise above the noise with ease. He gestured towards the open door leading deeper into _La Sirena’s_ bowels and, before Cris could say or do anything, headed towards it with a spring in his step. _Damn_ that arrogant Kendrian near-invincibility! Just because you could heal within minutes from a bottle to the forehead didn’t mean a well-armed phaser blast couldn’t knock you out for good!

Cris hurried to catch up with his cocky companion and managed to squeeze through the door in front of him. “Stay behind me”, he barked.

“With pleasure!” Xyr snaked the slender fingers of his uninjured hand under Cris’s coat and hooked them into his belt. _That man truly has no sense of appropriate timing_ , Cris thought distractedly.

They snuck along the corridor leading toward the front of the ship, the music growing louder with every step. When they reached the stairs to the upper deck, Cris hesitated. He didn’t quite trust the computers assessment that there were no other beings on board apart from him and his guest. He hadn’t taken a phaser with him when he left the ship earlier - _who takes weapons to a night at the opera?_ \- but his small armoury cupboard was close to the top of the stairs. If he made a run for it, he might be able to close the distance and get a hand on something before any possible intruder could react. But perhaps he should first try to assess the situation?

Cris plucked his companion’s hand from his belt and turned around. “Stay here, I’ll see what’s going on upstairs.”

“What?!” Xyr gestured to his ears and said something else that was lost in the bellowing tones of a bellicose duet.

Cris stabbed a finger at the other man’s chest, then pointed at the floor where he was standing, funnelling every ounce of authority he could muster into the silent gesture.

His determination earned him a fond eyeroll, but the Kendrian seemed finally ready to acquiesce to one of his requests.

Trying to breath normally, Cris crept up the metal steps placing each foot with deliberate care. His precaution was rewarded, when, just as he was halfway up the stairs, the music rose to a fevered crescendo and then dropped out into sudden silence. Distorted echoes bounced around the metal walls, but they were soon replaced by a strange cacophony of quiet whirring and buzzing noises moving on the deck above.

Cris felt an icy spike bloom in his stomach. Was the reason the computer hadn’t detected any life signs that his ship was, in fact, being overrun by some kind of robotic invasion? His brain immediately started cycling through a list of possible culprits, offering a catalogue of increasingly dire scenarios. There had been that time when the _ibn Mājid_ had run into a hostile race that used fist-sized self-replicating robots to infiltrate their shuttle bay and —

“You never said you had a brother.” The quiet whisper, tinged with reproach and giddy delight, made Cris jump so hard he nearly lost his footing. _Of course_ Xyr hadn’t remained at the bottom of the stairs but was standing right behind him again, his greater height allowing him to get a peak of what was happening above them.

“What are you talking about?”, Cris hissed back, quickly climbing another couple of steps to be able to see the operations deck as well. “I don’t have any…”

His colourful curse was swallowed by a resounding fanfare, announcing the triumphant return of the Klingon Warrior Princess to her people after her victory over the Great Beast of HuH.

At the centre of the cavernous room, his usual turtleneck sweater exchanged for a sleek tuxedo coat with wildly flapping tails, the Emergency Hospitality Hologram stood waving his arms about dramatically in time with the music. He was turned away from them, but occasionally his exaggerated movements threw his face into silhouette against the city lights streaming in through the front window, and Cris understood how Xyr could have thought the hologram might be his brother.

With another round of choice expletives, Cris ran up the rest of the stairs two steps at a time and spun around at the top to head for the flailing figure. The goddamn Hospitality Horror would have to come up with one hell of an explanation to stop Cris from wiping him off the ship’s systems for good. If he thought he could just —

Something cold, heavy, and painfully solid collided with Cris’s shin, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground.

“ _¡Me cago en la mar!_ ”

As he hopped backwards, leaning down to rub his smarting leg, Cris found himself face to face - well, face to polished metal surface - with a small cylindrical contraption that beeped at him indignantly. It advanced on him again and he just managed to prevent another assault with a deft sidestep. The little devil flashed a mocking blue diode at him as it whirred past and bustled to join what appeared to be a small horde of similar bots, swarming the deck. They moved in a surprisingly coordinated manner and it took Cris a moment to realize that the Hospitality Horror’s wild flailing was not just a ridiculous parody of an opera conductor, he was actually directing the little machines.

For a moment, Cris was too stunned to speak, then he took a deep breath, fully prepared to send the Hospitality Hologram, opera and all, to hell.

Suddenly, a strong arm encircled him from behind, immobilizing his upper body, and a room-temperature hand clamped his mouth securely shut. Pure instinct took over, and Cris kicked out, trying to leverage his compromised position to throw his captor off balance, but whoever it was, they just held on tighter and dragged him backwards, away from the central space of the deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering (I know I am), my brain has apparently decided that Yes, I _will_ just keep writing “Rios stumbles onto the secret lives of his holograms” again and again until somebody stops me.  
> So I, in turn, have decided to open a second series for exactly those types of fics. As it turns out, I seem to have two modes: “Overly sincere Action Adventure with Stakes and Plot and Character Development (Eventually. I hope. Oh god)” and “What if, and hear me out on this, I know it’s a bit out there… the holos come alive at night? =D” With absolutely no stakes very, very little plot and mostly a whole lot of insanity.
> 
> At least this way, you’ll know in advance which of the two you’re getting ;9


	2. The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's give this whole footnote thing a try then, shall we?
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta Horizon for her gleeful amusement at my attempts at full-blown humor and the provision of more Spanish, which, whenever relevant to the story, will be translated in footnotes.

_“Calla, vas a cargarte el plan.”_ 1

Cris went limp at the words, whispered directly into his ear so they would be heard over the Warrior Princess’s victory-aria. “Em’t?!”, he mumbled against the hand over his mouth.

The hologram pulled him behind one of the large storage crates stacked against the back wall by the door to the engine room, and dropped them both down into a crouch, before he finally loosened his grip.

“Oh, good evening, Captain, how nice of you to join us!” Cris whirled around and stared right into the beaming face of the ENH, who was kneeling behind Emmet in the cover of the crates. “Did you have a pleasant time at the opera?”

“What the fuck is going on here?!” Cris made no effort to keep his voice low, despite the holograms’ obvious wish for secrecy. The music was still ringing out loud enough to mask anything he said, though the holograms had apparently done something to shield their hideout a little from the overwhelming noise. “Why is there an army of bots crawling all over my ship? Has the EHH been hacked?”

The Navigational Hologram laughed. “No no, nothing of the sort. Steward’s just giving his cleaning bots a bit of exercise.”

“He’s doing _what?_ ”

 _“¡Cállense!”_2 Emmet was laser-focused on the strange ballet still in full swing on the main deck. A small wing of the cylindrical machines had broken away from the main force and was pirouetting towards them.

“It’s the one on the right, second row.”, the ENH whispered, now also staring at the approaching bots.

Emmet shook his head but made no reply. As the group whirled by, buzzing and blinking, he propelled himself out from behind the crates and pounced on one of the metal cylinders at the very back. It vanished as soon as he touched it.

The Tactical Hologram recovered his momentum and lunged forward to make a grab for the bot Enoch had indicated, but that one vanished as well.

By now, the splinter group had made a full circuit of their little corner of the deck and was headed to rejoin the show on the main floor.

Instead of trying another attack, Emmet dashed back to their shielded hideout, muttering something Cris was glad he couldn’t make out over the din of the music.

The ENH clicked his tongue sympathetically. “You were so close, I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”

Cris stared back and forth between the two holograms. “One of you better tell me what is going on _right fucking now!_ ”

Predictably, neither of the two seemed particularly impressed by his threatening tone. What had Cris ever done to be saddled with holograms that were just so… obstinate?

Still, Enoch apparently decided to take pity on his captain. He pulled Cris further into the shadow of the crate, giving Emmet space to resume his skulking stance. “See, Captain, Emmet has been trying to get his hands on one of those cleaning bots for months, but Steward always keeps them securely stored away when they’re not active. Except for nights like this when he lets them all out to work on their precision and coordination. So, this is our only opportunity to catch one.”

“Couldn’t you just replicate one for yourselves?”

Cris and his two holograms all jerked their heads up to stare at Xyr, who was sitting on top of the storage container they were cowering behind, his long legs elegantly crossed and dangling just over Emmet’s head. He must have come up the stairs and climbed over the top of the crates, rather than walk around them, though how he had managed it with only one functioning hand was a mystery.

“Or you could just pick one up on its usual servicing route, couldn’t you?” The Kendrian watched the spectacle on the main deck with a pensive frown.

Emmet shot a look around the corner as if to make sure the coast was clear, then he quickly stood up, grabbed Xyr by the hips and lifted him off his perch to deposit him next to Cris in the shielded space between the crates and the back wall. “ _No sería jugar limpio_ ”, he muttered, before returning to his lookout.

Xyr, who did not seem to mind being manhandled that way in the slightest, raised a delicate eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch that…”

“It wouldn’t be sportsmanlike”, the ENH translated with a grin. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m the Emergency Navigational Hologram, but you can call me Enoch.” He gave the Kendrian an ecstatic wave.

Cris felt the urgent need to hide in a very deep hole. Or possibly to throw his holograms into one.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”, Xyr beamed at the ENH, his liquid eyes sparkling. “My name is K’tri’Xyr enK’trim, but you can call me Xyr.”

Enoch’s eyes went wide and he looked at Cris, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “The star tenor? My my, Captain, that’s quite a catch.”

Cris felt his face flush hot with what he sincerely hoped was anger. “Deactivate —”

“That’s too kind”, Xyr cut across him with another happy laugh. “I rather like to think I caught myself a handsome starship captain.”

“Must have been quite the chase, too”, Enoch grinned, gesturing to the bruise still visible on the Kendrian’s forehead.

“There was steep competition.”

“ _If you two are quite finished_ ”, Cris hissed, feeling like the evening was increasingly getting away from him.

Enoch settled his face into a smile so beatifically innocent it verged on indecency. “You’re right, Captain, we shouldn’t distract Emmet. One dramatic hunt is quite enough to handle. How’s it looking, buddy?”

The ETH grunted an incomprehensible reply, but then his body tensed like a coiled spring and he leaned forward, getting ready for another attack.

Xyr leaned around the Tactical Hologram to get a better look, wincing as he accidentally put weight on his injured hand. “So, what exactly is it you hope to do with the bot if you catch it?”

“Emmet and I have some exciting ideas to increase their defensive capabilities”, Enoch replied, rising slightly from his crouch to get a look of the action over the top of the others’ heads.

“I don’t know, they already seem plenty capable. The way they keep disappearing to evade capture? And that first one nearly took your captain’s leg off.”

“My leg is fine, thank you very much”, Cris grumbled, cheeks flushing hot again, “Just because I’m not some indestructible, fast-healing, blue wisp of a man doesn’t mean a little bump will knock me out!”

Xyr briefly shot him a sparkling grin that did a lot more to weaken Cris’s legs than any cleaning bot ever could.

“Just imagine what they could do with a few added features.” Enoch waggled his eyebrows again.

Xyr seemed deeply intrigued. “What sort of features?”

Enoch said “Statically charged forcefields”, at exactly the same moment that Emmet said “Knives.”

Cris was sure the floor would have to open up and swallow him any second now. He seriously considered just deactivating the whole lot of them and trying to salvage whatever was left of this evening (and his dignity), when Emmet shot forwards again.

This time, he didn’t tackle a single bot. Instead, he bolted into the path of another break-away group that was heading towards their corner of the deck, forcing the machines to swerve around him. Something was odd about the way they moved. Cris was sure that the one in front was hovering just a little bit above the floor, and… had the bot on the left flank just clipped through the support beam?

He realized what was going on, just as Xyr next to him gasped: “They’re holograms!”

“Not all of them”, Enoch corrected. “There’s one real bot in that group and it’s projecting out the images. Steward says it has something to do with improving their calibration.”

“Which one is it?” Xyr’s tone was almost reverent.

“That _is_ the question”, Enoch replied, eyes fixed on the spectacle currently whirring past their hiding place.

They all watched with bated breaths as Emmet kept pace with the bots on their circuit, stalking along in their midst with exaggerated movements, forcing them further apart. One by one, the projections were disappearing, as they ventured too far from what must be the real bot at their centre. The remaining ones were having a difficult time adjusting, too. At least two holographic bots were skidding along at an angle that was complete incongruous with the position of their tiny wheels, and one kept sinking into the floor.

To his utter amazement, Cris heard himself call out: “Third row, second from the left!”

Emmet dropped into a predatory crouch, took aim, and then he pounced again. This time, his prey did not disintegrate. The Tactical Hologram skilfully channelled his momentum into a roll, yanking the cleaning bot off the floor and pressing it securely against his chest. The last few holo-bots that had been scattered around him disappeared instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 _“Hush, you’ll ruin the plan!”_ [return to text]
> 
> 2 _“Shut up!”_ [return to text]


	3. The Quarry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The footnotes in this chapter aren't necessary for understanding the story, they are more my own commentary/research notes, that my wonderful beta encouraged me to share with the wider world. So feel free to ignore them if you don't want to lose your place in the story ;)

“Oh bravo!” Enoch jumped to his feet, clapping giddily. “You’ve got it!” He ran over to Emmet to admire the machine struggling in the ETH’s tattooed arms.

Xyr turned to face Cris, happy anticipation lighting up his finely carved features. “You run a _very_ exciting ship, Captain.” And before Cris could react, the other man grabbed his hand and pulled him out of their shelter and over to the two holograms who were grinning at the helplessly beeping robot. “So?”, Xyr asked happily, “What now?”

The two looked up at him, expressions suddenly frozen.

Then they looked at each other.

Cris groaned. “You have no clue, do you? This was as far as you two geniuses had planned?”

Emmet shrugged impassively. “Never got this far before.”

Xyr snorted indelicately and pressed his face into Cris’s shoulder to stifle helpless laughter. The muted sound made the base of Cris’s spine tingle. How could any person have such a beautiful voice? He ran his thumb over the back of the Kendrian’s slender hand. If they could just…

_No! He was NOT going to get distracted!_

He took a deep breath. “Right. This idiocy has gone on long enough. If you don’t even know what you want to do with that thing, just put it back and stop pestering the EHH.” He couldn’t believe this evening had gotten so far out of hand he was defending the fucking Hospitality Hologram of all people!

“You should deactivate its transponder”, another voice chimed in. “Or Steward will ken ye’ve taken one of his bots.” All four of them spun around with a startled jerk. The Emergency Engineering Hologram was leaning in the mouth of the corridor that ran toward the front of the ship along the port-side wing. “Though he might notice regardless”, the EEH continued, pensively tapping some kind of tool against his chin, “he has a very good eye for the little critters.”

“Cris?”, Xyr asked, a hint of hysteria shaking his velvet voice. “Who’s this now?”

But Cris was too dumbfounded to reply. He really must have angered the fates recently that they would choose to visit this kind of utter humiliation upon him.

Unfortunately, Enoch recovered a lot faster. “That’s Ian our chief engineer. He’s a true artist with mechanics and circuitry.”

“Ach.” Ian modestly waved the compliment away with a handkerchief he’d been using to clean his tool. “I’m merely the Emergency Engineering Hologram.” He smiled at the Kendrian. “And who might you be, laddie?”

“No-one”, Cris snapped, just as Xyr repeated his name.

“He’s the Captain’s date”, Enoch added helpfully, putting an almost lewd amount of emphasis on the last word.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Ian gave them his warmest smile. “It’s been way too long.”

Cris’s eyes went wide as Xyr started laughing again.

Enoch nodded eagerly. “Emil was just saying the other day —”

Mercifully, Cris was spared the revelation of what exactly his EMH thought of his love-life, because in that moment, Emmet, who had been fiddling with the contraption in his arms, grunted triumphantly and yanked a small piece of metal off the bot’s underside.

Ian’s face fell, but whatever caution he was about to give was drowned out by an ear-splitting siren.

“ _¡JODER!_ ”

Emmet tried to stick the piece back in its place, but the little machine continued to blare its god-awful alarm. Enoch was babbling something incomprehensible, flapping about like a headless chicken, nearly knocking the bot out of the ETH’s arms. Ian bustled over, yelling advice to make himself heard over the din and stabbed his tool at the frantically spinning wheels that were threatening to tangle in Emmet’s long hair, as he pulled the machine out of Enoch’s reach.

Xyr had lost all composure and was bent double, shaking with laughter, clinging to Cris’s arm to hold himself upright, and Cris had finally lost the last of his patience.

“Computer, deactivate Emergency Holograms!”

Nothing happened.

Probably unsurprising, given that he couldn’t even hear himself, over the incensed wailing of the machine, the panicked shrieks and shouts of the three holograms in front of him, and the Klingon opera still pommelling his eardrums with graphic details of monster slaying.3

“Computer, pause music!”

Still nothing.

Cris was starting to get desperate, but a tug on his arm gave him a sudden idea. Maybe he needed to combat the bellowing Klingons on their own terrain. He grabbed Xyr’s arms, careful not to jostle the injured hand, and pulled the singer upright until they were eye to eye. Bright tear tracks shimmered on the beautifully flushed cheeks, and he was gasping for air like he’d just run a marathon. Or engaged in some other strenuous activity…

_Fuck._

The Kendrian’s lips, still grinning with absolute abandon, were mere inches from his. There was something he had meant the singer to do with that delicate mouth of his, but for the life of him, Cris couldn’t remember what.

In his ears, the Klingon Warrior Princess was enumerating different ways to sauté HuH-Beast hide, and in his peripheral vision, the holograms were having a tug-of-war over the desperately beeping cleaning robot, but right now none of them mattered. If this was how the evening was going to go, he might as well make the most of it.

Cris took a deep breath and ran his hands up Xyr’s arms until they came to rest on his slender shoulders.

The Kendrian noticed the shift in his companion’s mood. His star-speckled eyes melted into an impossibly darker black, and in the blink of an eye his long hands found their way into Cris’s coat and under the back of his shirt.

The Warrior Princess belted her approval with an ear-piercing tremolo.

Cris leaned into the embrace. His right hand came up to cup the back of Xyr’s neck, pulling that mesmerizing face closer to his own. He could feel the singer’s cool breath against his skin and —

The music crashed to a halt, a cacophonous clang of cymbals and kettle drums announcing the arrival of the Great Beast of HuH’s enraged mother-in-law.4

Cris froze, startled by the sudden lack of pressure on his eardrums.

The cleaning bot, on the other hand, used the sudden silence to alert its master to its predicament with renewed zeal. It didn’t have to wait long.

_“valQIS?_ ”5

A puff of soundless laughter blew against Cris’s lips and another sparkling tear fell from Xyr’s eyelashes as he mouthed ‘ _Valkriss?_ ’, but he was the only one amused by the EHH’s concerned call.

The three holograms next to them stared at each other in wide-eyed panic. They were still standing far enough in the back corner of the main deck to be hidden from the Hospitality Hologram’s view, but his voice was coming closer. He would be upon them any second now.

Emmet was the first to recover his wits. With one rough movement, he pushed the still screaming bot into Enoch’s arms, and shivered away into nothing.

The ENH was frozen, horror writ large across his innocent face, and he nearly went cross-eyed staring down at the incriminating ball of metal, noise, and rage he was now holding. The sight was too pitiful to bear.

Cris disentangled himself from his now probably ex-date and grabbed his remaining two holograms by the arms instead. As he shoved them into the corridor, where they’d be hidden from the EHH’s view for a while longer, he found Ian’s gaze and hissed: “Do something!” Then he quickly returned to where he had left Xyr who was staring into the middle distance with a dazed look on his face. Maybe he had a concussion after all. Or possibly whiplash.

Cris took the Kendrians uninjured hand in his left, and gently placed his right on the gorgeous light blue cheek. “I’m so sorry”, he murmured. “Are you okay?”

Xyr’s eyes snapped back to Cris’s and a smile dawned on his face, dazzling like a sunrise viewed from high orbit. “This”, he breathed, “is the best date I have _ever_ had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3This song, known as the _HuHjagh’a’ luHmey_ , is regarded as one of the oldest and most detailed sources for the proper treatment and use of the semi-mythological HuH Beast. Experts advise that only people with strong stomachs or very Klingon sensibilities should ever attempt a translation of its grittier passages.[return to text]
> 
> 4A little like Beowulf. Only stupider. So, _so_ much stupider.[return to text]
> 
> 5The Steward is a great admirer of the Klingon composer _vaqner_ and drew on his work for inspiration in naming his bots. It is in deference to this great composers native dialect that the usual pronunciation "valkrish" has been substituted for the more ~~entertaining~~ suitable "val-cris".[return to text]


	4. Intermezzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to my intrepid beta, Horizon, for helping me wrangle this little beast into a shareable form, and to Regionalpancake for helping me finally get the space boys to kiss!

Cris felt a huge smile lighting up his own features - and then Xyr was leaning against him, long fingers running through his unruly curls, soft lips pressing against his own with an urgency that made Cris forget the previous pandemonium.

His stupid, meddling holograms had been right, it had been way too long since he’d last allowed himself to let go and just enjoy an evening of good company and uncomplicated delight. Tomorrow, _La Sirena_ would leave the spaceport with a cargo bay full of precious antiques, and Xyr would continue his engagement as the most sought-after tenor in this quadrant of space. But right now, all he knew, all he needed to know, was that this gorgeous man was holding him close, smiling against his lips, and kissing him with the tantalizing promise of more things to come.

Except those things would have to wait a while longer, because in that moment, the Emergency Hospitality Hologram came stalking around the corner from the main deck. With his long, flapping coattails and an army of cleaning bots whirring along at his heels like a pack of vengeful hounds, he could have given the HuH-Beast’s mother-in-law a run for her money. However, when he found himself facing not his fellow holograms caught in the commission of some heinous crime, but rather his captain, clearly just breaking away from a passionate kiss, he stopped dead and deflated visibly.

“Captain!” The hologram’s voice climbed nearly an octave within the single word. “I had no idea you’d come back on board. What… I mean how… Who…?” He stared at the singer who was still draped across Cris’s front.

Xyr flashed Cris a grin before donning an expression of apologetic ( _gorgeous_ ) embarrassment and turning to face the hologram. “I’m so sorry about the intrusion, I’m afraid it’s my fault. I rather clumsily injured my hand and your Captain was kind enough to offer me use of his osteogenic regurgitator.”

“ _Regenerator_ ”, Cris whispered, unable to stop himself from grinning, too.

“Regenerator”, Xyr repeated, glossing over the mistake with a showman’s confidence. “If you just point us in the direction of sickbay, we’ll be out of your hair.”

A passable performance of innocence, Cris thought, only slightly marred by the fact that they obviously didn’t need help finding sickbay — and by the incensed beeping, that was still echoing out of the corridor behind them, even though Ian had managed to muffle it significantly.

The Hospitality Hologram was clearly torn between the mortification of having been discovered mid-opera and the desire to find out what had happened to his bot. He kept looking towards the mouth of the corridor but didn’t seem to dare make a move to get past Cris and his date.

“Um… I was looking for one of my cleaning robots. Have you… I mean…”

The alarm beeping from the corridor grew a little louder, but Cris did not take his eyes off the Hospitality Hologram, who appeared to be searching for a diplomatic way to discuss the subject.

“Has she… come through here by any chance?”, he ventured finally.

There was a hollow _clang,_ and then the robotic noise died with a final, lamenting wail. Cris held the EHH’s gaze with steely determination. “I haven’t seen anything.”

He could feel Xyr’s chest vibrating against his as the Kendrian stifled more laughter, but, true to form, the singer’s voice stayed perfectly steady. “Yes, sorry, my fault again. I think I was distracting him.”

He tried to teasingly pull one of Cris’s ruffled curls, but the movement must have disturbed his injured joints, because he flinched hard enough to momentarily distract the Hospitality Hologram from his rescue mission.

“I’m so sorry, Sir, you’re still in need of medical attention!” The hologram shot a final look to the entrance to the corridor, then he squared his shoulders. “Let me call the Emergency Medical Hologram for you, I’m sure he’ll be able to assist.”

“Don’t!”, Cris snapped. He’d had enough holograms for one night. “We don’t need assistance, we’re fine.” But he should have known that his opinion on this issue wouldn’t be taken into account. It hadn’t been once all evening.

Xyr was giving the Hospitality Hologram one of his dazzling smiles. “Oh, would you? That would be marvellous, thank you so much!”

The EHH nodded and turned sharply on his heel, striding away towards the front of the ship. The sea of bots at his feet, which had shrunk to a puddle as more and more projected duplicates disappeared, diligently parted to allow the hologram’s passing, and then closed ranks to bustle away after its master.

Cris buried his head in Xyr’s shoulder with a groan. “Why did you do that? Now we’ll never get out of here.”

“I want to meet the rest of your brothers”, the Kendrian laughed. “So far, they’ve been utterly delightful.”

Cris’s head snapped up. “They’re _not_ my brothers!!”

Xyr gave him a look full of fond disbelief. “Alright, your crew, then.”

“They’re just a bunch of light and circuitry. And insolent ones at that! If they weren’t hard-wired into the ship’s operating system, I would have gotten rid of them years ago.”

The Kendrian’s indulgent smile only grew. “Of course you would have.” His expression turned curious as his eyes wandered to the main deck where the EHH had disappeared from view. “So how many more of them are there, exactly?”

Cris let his head drop against the taller man’s shoulder again. “The EMH is the last one.”

“Is he as charming as the rest of them?”

Cris had to take a deep breath to stop himself from swearing. There were few things he wanted to hear less from his _date_ , than how charming his fucking Emergency Holograms were! Fortunately, he was spared the indignity of having to answer by the approach of an even greater indignity from the front of the ship.


	5. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand the footnotes are back! XD I still have no idea what kind of tone I'm going for with those, but they amuse me and I currently have very little self-control (as evidenced by the fact you are currently reading a 13k+, 9-chapter Space-Roomba-Romp), so here we are.  
> Again, the footnotes aren't essential to the story and might interrupt the flow slightly, so proceed at your own peril ;9
> 
> The _tel be’vajpu’_ are my own addition to Klingon mythology, but as far as I know their existence isn't contradicted by anything in canon and they seemed like they would fit right in.

“I really hope this ‘surprise’ won’t take too long. I spent the last half hour warming up, you know?” The all-too-familiar beleaguered disapproval in the British voice drifting around the corner made Cris want to bury his face even deeper in his companion’s coat. However, he was determined to preserve at least a sliver of dignity, so he stood up straight instead and disentangled himself from Xyr, to better face the oncoming menace.

“Oh, this is worth postponing the third act a little. I guarantee you’ll enjoy it!”

“Hm.” The EMH sounded unconvinced by the Hospitality Hologram’s assurances. Mere seconds later, the two of them rounded the corner and Cris’s jaw dropped.

If he hadn’t heard them talking before, he might have thought the EHH had brought Emmet by mistake. His holographic doctor, usually impeccably dressed in a white shirt and a fashionable coat, was decked out in leather with bits of metal armour visible under the many layers of hide and fabric. His hair was a lot longer and wilder than it had any right to be, and there was what looked like a ceremonial Klingon dagger at his hip.

Xyr gasped with delight at the same moment the Hospitality Horror waved his arms in their direction and shouted “ _Ta-DAH!_ ” like some third-rate magician.

The EMH froze, eyes growing wide as he took in Cris’s companion. Then there was a flurry of light and staticky humming and the hologram was back to his usual appearance. Or almost, anyway. Even from a few feet away, Cris could tell the doc was wearing his dark coat inside out.

Xyr was laughing again. “Please, you don’t have to change on my account.” He closed the distance to the still stunned hologram and extended his hand. “I see you’re a tenor as well?”

The EMH actually blushed as he shook the Kendrian’s hand. Cris couldn’t believe his eyes. His Medical Hologram wasn’t supposed to act like this! He was all irritated eyerolls and exasperated sarcastic remarks, always in control of the situation and himself (if not his captain) and never ever lost for words.

Right now, he was stammering, trying and failing to get out a reply, and shaking Xyr’s hand as if he was never going to stop.

“Our good doctor is a great aficionado of all forms of opera”, the EHH supplied when after a few moments, no coherent answer was forthcoming.7 He discreetly moved his hands as if to dust something off the other hologram’s shoulders, and somehow that turned the EMH’s coat the right way out again. “His rendition of _Gav’ot toHva_8 is to die for.”

“And what more could you ask from a Klingon tragedy?”, Xyr laughed. The EMH’s face went an even darker red.

Cris wondered who had bothered to add that particular physical reaction into the Emergency Holograms’ coding. The effect was rather too… human. He quickly went to stand next to his date to remind the singer who the real human on this ship was.

The effusive praise seemed to finally bring the EMH back to his senses, though he was still shaking Xyr’s hand. “I could never do it justice! The quarter-note coloratura in the final act has eluded me for years.”

“I know what you mean.” Xyr leaned forward with a conspiratorial wink, as if letting the Medical Hologram in on a great secret. “It took me five months of intense rehearsals to get that one right”

The handshaking grew more vigorous. “I caught a holo of your performance on Rigel II, and I’ve never seen such a breath-taking interpretation of the material. When you plunged off that cliff into the lake of _tuj_ to avenge your lover’s untimely death at the hands of her uncle’s second cousin? I didn’t think anyone could give that scene more pathos than the great Voshkal, but your decision to mirror the fall from act one, when the treacherous quartermaster pushed you off the wing of the warbird… It just added so much gravity.”

“A fall will generally do that”, Cris grumbled.

Xyr swatted at him with his free hand, still focusing on the entranced hologram. “I’m so flattered you noticed! I always feel it’s such an honour when they allow non-Klingons to perform in the great cycles, so I try to give my characters as much depth as possible.”

“Can’t go wrong with the bottom of a lake, then.” This time, Cris’s sarcastic comment got the attention of the two gushing men.

“Was there something you needed, Captain?”, the EMH asked, his tone so crisp it was bordering on impertinence.

“No, actually, we’re good”, Cris said gruffly. “Once you let go of my date, that is.”

“Oh.” The EMH looked at Xyr, then at Cris, then he raised his eyebrows, a hint of sardonic glee creeping into his expression. “Your _date_?”

_Oh no, not again!_

Cris opened his mouth to bark a deactivation command, when he was rescued, of all people, by the Emergency Hospitality Hologram. “Mr. K’tri —”

“Please, you must call me Xyr.”

The EHH gave him his most professional smile. “ _Our guest_ rather unfortunately injured his hand and was hoping we’d be able to offer assistance.”

The EMH’s eyes went wide with alarm and he looked down at the Kendrian’s right hand which he was still clasping in both of his. Cris could feel Xyr’s answering laugh resonating at the base of his spine.

“Left hand”, the singer reassured the hologram, holding it up as proof and waving his stiff fingers.

“Unless you managed to break the other one, too”, Cris said with a dark look.

The EMH ignored him and finally let go of Xyr, only to reach out for his injured fingers instead. “May I?”, he asked, his voice returning to a semblance of his normal professional self.

“Of course”, the singer nodded with a happy smile. As the Medical Hologram started to inspect his bruised knuckles, Xyr leaned into Cris with a sigh, though his eyes were on the EHH. “You know”, he said, “If you’re still looking for that bot, I’m sure it can’t have wandered off too far.” He nodded towards the corridor with an encouraging wink.

“Right.” Steward pulled his coat straight making the tails flap. “I should make sure she hasn’t gotten herself into any trouble. Little _valQIS_ has always had a bit of a free spirit.”

Xyr nodded earnestly. “The best _tel be’vajpu’_ always do.”9

While Cris was still trying to parse the allusion,10 Steward drew himself to his full height and rushed past them with a curt “Please excuse me”, focused once again on the quest for his lost bot. Her army of siblings, who had remained tactfully hidden for the past few minutes, swarmed from behind storage crates and around corners and whirred after their master with a chorus of bellicose beeps.

Cris could feel the Kendrian shaking against his side with suppressed laughter. “Did you really have to egg him on?”, he asked quietly, though he couldn’t muster any real reproach.

“Sorry”, Xyr whispered back. “I just love how passionately he cares about his children.”

Cris shuddered. “They’re just cleaning robots.”

“But given the way Steward nurtures and cares for them, it’s an apt analogy.” The EMH looked up from his examination. He gave Cris an unreadable look, then he returned his attention to Xyr. “A few of the joints are misaligned, but any breaks seem to have healed already. I would like to do a proper scan before I attempt to reset the bones.”

Xyr gave the hologram his most winning smile. “Please! We wouldn’t want anything to heal improperly.”

The EMH smiled as well. “It’s so nice to see someone taking their injuries seriously.” He shot his captain a censuring look. “For once.”

Cris narrowed his eyes at his companion. “I seem to remember a _very_ different conversation, Mr ‘it’ll heal on its own’.”

Xyr jabbed his elbow into Cris’s side but continued to look at the hologram. “I take it the dear captain is too busy to let little injuries stop him?”

The EMH scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “He once insisted on flying the ship through a plasma storm with three splintered ribs and a lacerated lung. It took me five hours to patch him up afterwards.”

“Would you have preferred for the ship to be blown to bits?” Cris asked through clenched teeth. He didn’t appreciate the look of utter delight that was spreading across Xyr’s face at the prospect of hearing embarrassing stories from Cris’s past.

The EMH was unimpressed by his captain’s dark mood. “Enoch is rather good in those types of situations, you know. You might even say he was born to deal with them.”

Cris drew a deep breath, but then he hesitated. There was no way for him to win this particular argument. They’d had it often enough that he knew all too well how it would end — and Xyr would probably sulk if Cris deactivated the doctor before the two of them had had a chance to swap tea recipes for sore throats or whatever it was singers discussed when left alone. _Damn_ that man and his handsome face, how could Cris ever risk doing anything that would put him off?

So, he went for a diplomatic approach instead. “Perhaps you could use your particular skill set to ‘deal with this situation’?” He gestured at Xyr’s hand.

The EMH looked ready to spar for a few more rounds, but after another glance at his potential patient, he stood down. Apparently, the allure of treating a renowned opera singer outweighed any satisfaction he might get from taking cheap shots at his captain.

“It would be my privilege”, the hologram said smugly, and Cris couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Please, sir, follow me.”

The EMH gestured towards the back stairs and looked like he was going to reach a guiding hand towards the singer, but before he could make another move, Cris possessively grabbed Xyr’s uninjured hand. “After you”, he said flatly.

The hologram raised his eyebrows but didn’t make a comment. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and turned around sharply to lead the way to sickbay.

Cris felt utterly ridiculous. Was he really going to get jealous of his stupid Emergency Holograms? That surely had to be some new level of insanity. They were just programmes, light and forcefields and way too much ego. It didn’t help, of course, that Xyr was very clearly basking in the EMH’s attention.

Still, when Xyr leaned down to whisper into Cris’s ear, his cool breath tickling the shorter man’s neck, Cris could feel another pleasant shiver run all the way down his spine. “Thanks for not sending him away”, the Kendrian murmured. “I could tell you were itching to.”

Cris huffed. “I just didn’t want you to have to deal with all that overbearing adulation. He nearly tore off your hand!”

Xyr gave him an indulgent smile and lifted their joined hands to stroke a long finger over Cris’s cheek, as if to prove he was perfectly unharmed. “I’m a performer, darling. I _live_ for overbearing adulation.”11

Cris couldn’t help but laugh fondly at that. He should probably have known he’d be asking for drama, hooking up with a famous opera star. But _virgen santa_ , Xyr was worth it! Cris reached up to cup his hand around the Kendrian's neck and pull him in for another kiss, but at that moment, the EMH called from the stairs: “Captain, if you’d be so kind as to unhand my patient? Those joints aren’t going to heal themselves.”

Cris growled, but it was probably best to just get this over with. He let go of Xyr’s neck with a quietly whispered promise of ‘Later!’ and pulled him along, following the Emergency Medical Menace.12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 That Emil is a great admirer of all forms of opera has been established in many places. As an early example, one might point to [_Rough around the edges_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810903) by EloraRiker, and a slightly more minor but still relevant use of the trope can be found in ch. 2 of [_Ghosts_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787445/chapters/57143452) by the inimitable Thimblerig.  
> [Yes, I _will_ flog [_On the Decks of La Sirena_](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634554) in the notes to every single fic of mine, because a) it is _just that good_ and b) you can’t really write Rios and the holos and not end up borrowing from Thimblerig…][return to text]
> 
> 8 Worf sings parts of this opera in DS9 S7Ep17 "Penumbra". It has challenging parts for a tenor.[return to text]
> 
> 9 singular: _tel be’vaj_ ("winged warrior woman"); a group of female warriors in Klingon mythology that ride great winged beasts and guide the souls of those who have died an honourable death in battle to Sto-vo-kor.[return to text]
> 
> 10 As a prolific performer of all varieties of opera, Xyr is, of course, as familiar with the work of the great Klingon composer _vaqner_ as Steward. Cris, alas, is not.[return to text]
> 
> 11 In which Xyr ever so slightly channels Freddie Mercury…[return to text]
> 
> 12This epithet, as well as "Hospitality Horror" and "Navigational Nuisance", were probably inspired by Talvenhenki’s use of “emergency medical nuisance” in [_Of Nightmares And Infuriating Holograms_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602841).[return to text]


	6. Scars

Xyr and the EMH kept up a steady stream of operatic discussions all the way to sickbay and most of it went over Cris’s head. He wasn’t uncultured by any means, some basics of Klingon opera had even been part of his school’s music curriculum, but the intricate plots and convoluted family relations were difficult enough to follow when you were watching the events unfold live on stage with visual identifiers like costumes and insignia, and the Universal Translator lending some support. On _Sirena_ , where the UT was only really switched on for emergencies (or negotiations that were threatening to turn into emergencies), all the technical terms being dropped around him went untranslated, indistinguishable from the names of actors, characters, and quite possibly an acute throat infection on the EMH’s part.

It came as a deep relief when they finally reached the bright, round room at the heart of the ship, and the Medical Hologram got temporarily distracted, looking for his instruments. Cris led his date to the table at the centre of sickbay, and they sat down next to each other, hands still linked between them.

Xyr was looking around with warm appreciation in his dark eyes. “This is a lovely space. The plants really add a nice, homely touch.”

The EMH briefly smiled over his shoulder before going back to rummaging in a drawer. “There are many studies that show that the presence of even small house plants can have great positive effects on patient recovery.”

“How clever! Your captain must consider himself very lucky to have such a dedicated physician on board.”

Cris was very tempted to kick Xyr’s shin under the table, or at least to point out that using sickbay as a plant nursery had been his idea, initially (mostly to annoy the EMH, though having access to a sink and a tight control over light and atmosphere _did_ make the room uniquely suited).13 However, the Kendrian’s mischievous grin was utterly disarming, so he settled on a non-committal shrug instead.

The EMH gave Xyr a weary half-smile as he walked over, a tray of instruments in his hands. “I’m sure the captain would appreciate the decor if he ever stayed long enough to notice it.”

“Oh?” Xyr arched his eyebrow with an eager grin. “He doesn’t stick around for treatment?”

“Only under threat of heavy sedation.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

Xyr squeezed Cris’s hand, but otherwise the two men ignored him completely.

The EMH pulled up a stool for himself and picked up a scanner to examine the singer’s injured knuckles. “I suppose you don’t usually spend much time in medical facilities? I’ve always found the regenerative rate of Kendrian cells extraordinary.”

“It does have its advantages”, Xyr smiled. “Though I sometimes think it would be nice to have a few handsome scars. You know, to add an air of mystery…”

The EMH raised his eyebrows, still focused on his work. “I’m starting to see why you get along so well with the captain. He shares this strange obsession with keeping physical mementos of his… more reckless14 tendencies.”

“Still here”, Cris growled, just as Xyr said: “Really _?_ ”

The Kendrian looked positively enraptured. “What sort of reckless tendencies?”

The EMH shrugged. “Doing cargo runs through the radiation perimeter of a supernova while being shot at by some enraged arms dealers,15 getting into a fistfight with a group of Breen who dared to malign Starfleet —”

“Hold on.” Xyr cocked his head with a frown. “I heard you should never try to engage a Breen in hand-to-hand combat, because they always have phasers hidden somewhere and won’t hesitate to use them.”

The EMH shot him a beleaguered look and Xyr turned to Cris, an incredulous, _exquisite_ smile lighting up his elegant features. _“Really?”_

“They were threatening some first-year cadets.” Cris tried very hard not to sound defensive. “What was I supposed to do? Let them shoot the kids instead?”

“You’re a veritable hero, Captain Rios”, the Kendrian breathed, and Cris felt his stomach clench in delight.

Of course, the EMH had to ruin the moment immediately. “If only he’d have heroically gotten himself some proper treatment for that second-degree phaser burn afterwards”, he huffed, but then he stopped his scanning for a moment and gave Xyr a pensive look. “Though I suppose there are some cultures that value scars as tokens of achievements and important life events.”

“Like Princess She’mech choosing not to have her hand reattached after she uses the _qaQaw’_ blaster of _toDuj_ to liquefy the HuH-Beast’s _mavje’_?”

Cris stared at him. “What?”

“Precisely!”, the EMH nodded. “Or like Kronka’ having to sacrifice his eye to use the _wov-_ blade to blind the HuH-Beast’s mother-in-law.”16

Cris was doing his best to keep up. “Wait… Kronka’… that’s the tenor part, right?” He frowned at the EMH. “That’s who you were dressing up as.”

“Oh, that scene always brings me to tears.” Xyr shot Cris a sidelong glance before he looked back at the Medical Hologram and added in a dreamy tone: “I’m sure you look marvellous in an eye-patch.”17

“It’s all thanks to Steward’s skills as a costume designer”, the EMH preened, clearly flattered by the compliment.

Cris could feel a muscle in his jaw starting to tick. “Is this going to take much longer?”

Xyr had the decency to look slightly abashed, though there was still a mischievous glimmer swimming in his black eyes. He leaned over and lightly brushed his lips along the line of Cris’s jaw until they were right up against his ear. “I hope not”, he murmured. “I can’t wait to see those scars myself…”

_Fuck._

Hot blood shot up into Cris’s face and down towards —

 _No!_ Cris drew a sharp breath, trying to focus. He was _not_ going to lose his composure in front of the EMH who was pretending not to watch them, looking decidedly too smug.

Xyr sat back, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Cris needed a smoke. And a drink. And possibly a cold shower.

He patted the cigar case at his hip which immediately drew the EMH’s attention, but before the hologram could start a lecture on the sanctity of sickbay, Cris held up a placating hand. “I’m going to grab a drink in the mess. You just… see that you fix him back up, alright?”

“Of course, Captain”, the EMH replied smoothly.

Xyr gave Cris a wink full of salacious promise and squeezed his hand before letting go.

As he turned to leave, Cris thought he saw the EMH regarding the two of them with a warm smile, though it was only a fleeting moment and he was probably mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 If you want more information on the plants in sickbay, they have been and continue to be discussed as part of [ the _Mapping La Sirena_ project](https://mappinglasirena.tumblr.com) on tumblr. [return to text]
> 
> 14 Emil for “stupider”. [return to text]
> 
> 15 Cris realized they had contracted him to transport some dangerous, highly illegal biological weapons, so he decided to deliver them to Starfleet instead, but he needed to lose his original customers first. He flew into the radiation field of the supernova because he knew it would make any sensor reading impossible, and he knew he'd be better than them at piloting on sight alone. So what if he got a bit of radiation poisoning? That’s what the EMH is _for_ , isn’t he? And the doc milked that fucking week of recovery for all it was worth, so really they’re even! [return to text]
> 
> 16 The editorial team would like to apologize for the lack of translation at this point, but the finer points of Klingon martial techniques were too much or our translator's stomach to handle. Rest assured, all hands and eyes were lost in a truly honourable fashion! [return to text]
> 
> 17 He does! For further evidence, cf. Thimblerig, [_Ghosts_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787445/chapters/57143452), ch. 1 f. [return to text]


	7. Attack!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we finally reach the dramatic conclusion to this little tale! (The last three chapters are going up in one go ;D)  
> I'm sorry for the delay, I hope the wait turns out to have been worth it.
> 
> Once again my massive thanks goes to my beta, Horizon, who cheered me on, provided me with the requisite Spanish cursing, and very rightfully pointed out that my first draft of the final chapters didn't have nearly enough inappropriately timed flirting in it.
> 
> Once again, Spanish translations (and the author's regularly unhinged ramblings) can be found in the footnotes!

The replicator announced the completion of Cris’s drink with a quiet _ping._ He switched the cigar to his right hand and grabbed the blessedly cool glass — only water, since he had the distinct feeling he was going to need all his wits about him in a little while. That Xyr was a _menace_.

Cris couldn’t help the fond smile spreading across his face. He’d really gotten extremely lucky tonight.

A few moments later, he considered revising that assessment, when the sounds of a duet, sung in beautiful harmony, drifted through the open sickbay doors. A small part of him wondered whether he would actually be able to sing like that if he put in the effort to practice, and whether it would sound as lovely when his own voice mixed with Xyr’s. The rest of him wondered whether it was possible to strangle a hologram. The attempt would certainly be very satisfying.

He took another sip of his water and seriously considered barging into sickbay and dragging his date away, misaligned joints be damned. Surely, they could find somewhere nice and quiet to spend their night, far away from this cursed ship and its meddling holograms. Though it was getting late, so maybe he should simply disable the holo-emitters in his quarters to ensure they would have some privacy there?

His mind drifted off, imagining all of the ways the rest of the night might play out. Now that he had Xyr on his ship, there were also some choice programmes on the holodeck they might explore together, though it might be more difficult to lock the EH’s out of those…

Suddenly, his contemplation was interrupted by a surprisingly martial beep from the region of his ankle, and then searing pain shot up his calf.

 _“¡HIJO DE PUTA!”_ Cris dropped the glass and his cigar as he whirled around, hopping on one leg.

“Cris?”

“Captain, are you alright?!”

He ignored the concerned calls from sickbay and scanned the mess for signs of his assailant. He caught a glimpse of a little metal cylinder zooming away around benches and tables with a series of beeps that sounded suspiciously like maniacal laughter. It took cover behind a support beam on the other side of the room, but the little pest was very bad at hiding; Cris could hear its excited chitter and bits of it were sticking out beyond the metal strut. In particular a long, thin bit with an edge that caught the ambient light, glinting slightly red and very _sharp_ …

 _“EMMET!!”_ Cris ignored the pain in his ankle as he stalked over to the badly concealed bot.

“Captain? What’s going on?” The Hospitality Hologram, still in that ridiculous tux, had appeared next to the shattered water glass and was watching him with deep confusion, but Cris kept his eyes on the target.

The machine was apparently intelligent enough to register the approaching peril, because just as Cris was about to make a grab for it, it zipped away, zigzagging erratically to avoid any attempt at capture. Cris let out a colourful curse and spun around. He lunged for the bot as it flitted past, but his hands only found empty air.

 _“valQIS!”_ The EHH’s wail seemed to further enrage the machine. Its beeping grew even wilder and it started whirring figure-of-eights around the tables in the centre of the room. The Hospitality Hologram took up the pursuit, bustling after the bot like a startled mother hen, but he was too slow to keep up with it.

In a desperate bid for freedom, the little bot dashed towards the front of the ship where the blast shutters had been raised just enough to allow some cool air to filter in. If it managed to propel itself through the opening and survived the subsequent fall…

“Oh no you don’t!” Cris made a valiant leap to cut off the little pest’s path, but the force of the landing was too much for his injured leg and he stumbled, nearly crashing into one of the mess tables.

“I’ve got it Captain”, a chipper voice announced, and then the ENH was there, blocking the way to the shutters. “Come here, Valkriss, this is just silly now.”

But the little machine had other ideas. Just as Enoch reached down, it pirouetted sharply, and suddenly, there were five bots instead of one swarming around the confused hologram.

As if to prove they knew the same tricks, Ian blinked into existence next to the ENH, startling the little devils. As they dashed away, the engineer shouted: “It’s the one on the left!”

Enoch dove for one of the bots.

_“The other left!”_ 18

Cris sat down hard on a metal bench and rubbed his throbbing ankle, as the three holograms joined forces and ran after the frantic machine with a truly impressive level of shouting and lack of coordination.

Xyr, who had been watching the spectacle from the door of sickbay, came over and crouched down in front of the bench. He was trying to hide his amusement behind a mask of concern, but Cris could see the delighted spark in the singer’s deep eyes. “Are you okay?” He put his hand on Cris’s knee and leaned down to inspect his injury. “Anything broken beyond repair?”

Cris’s eyes were drawn almost hypnotically to the slender blue fingers on top of his leg, the noisy chaos around them suddenly a lot less significant. What a waste of time for his date to be fussing about something as insignificant as a cut on his ankle! Maybe he should find out how the singer’s distraction tactics worked when used against him.

Cris reached out his hand and gently ran a finger along Xyr’s jaw line, coming to rest under the Kendrian’s chin and lifting his head. “Nothing we’d miss tonight…”

His gamble paid off. Xyr’s eyes immediately turned to burning liquid and he leaned forward, bringing his face within tantalizing proximity of Cris’s, as his hand inched agonizingly slowly up the other man’s thigh. “Are you sure?”, he purred. “Because I won’t have you distracted by some silly injury. I’m going to need your full attention.”

Cris could feel his face grow hot again, any thought of his ankle forgotten. He grabbed the lapels of Xyr’s coat, pulling him in, closing the last bit of distance between them, and —

Something clanged loudly onto the table behind them. The noise made Cris jump and he stared up, straight into the smug face of the Emergency Medical Menace. “I thought you might need a dermal regenerator” the hologram declared, all smooth professionalism and poorly hidden, sardonic glee.

Xyr, of course, didn’t miss a beat. “Thank you so much, Emil!” He beamed up at the hologram. “That’s very thoughtful.”

Cris stifled a frustrated growl. The mood now well and truly destroyed, he leaned back against the table as Xyr got up and asked a blushing Emil to explain the function of the infernal device. Cris could feel another ridiculous pang of jealousy and quickly squashed it down, focusing instead on the hunt that was still in full swing around them.

While the EMH was monopolizing his date ( _The sheer fucking nerve!_ ), the other three holos had cornered the angrily chirping bot, pushing it back against one of the cargo nets. As Cris watched, one of its wheels got tangled in the mesh, forcing the little machine to an abrupt halt. On some unspoken command, all three EHs lunged forward, but the bot was faster. It swivelled around, used its knife to slash through the net and zoomed to freedom. Its pursuers, too slow to react, crashed into each other and landed in a heap of holographic limbs and flapping coat tails. A cascaded of footballs tumbled free of the torn cargo net and bounced off their various tangled appendages. The _sproing_ of the balls careening all around the mess hall mixed with a triumphant tune of harmonious beeps as the bot scuttled away.19

Cris pinched the bridge of his nose. _“Emmet, te quiero aquí plantado, ¡al tiro!”_ 20

With a flicker of light, the ETH materialized, straddling the grated bench next to Cris. He was doubled over and slapped a hand on his thigh, roaring with laughter.

“Do something!”, Cris shouted, trying to make himself heard over the commotion as the other holos scrambled to find their feet again and the little bot continued its noisy victory lap.

Emmet straightened up a little but merely gave Cris a careless shrug. “What? She’s got spirit. _Es una monada.”_ 21

Cris stared at him, too incredulous for words. He looked up at Emil, who was watching the whole spectacle with an air of exasperated defeat. When he noticed his Captain’s almost imploring gaze, he immediately held up a hand in defence. “Oh no! I told them from the beginning, I’m not getting involved.”

Cris’s eyes narrowed. “From the beginning?”

The EMH suddenly looked a little guilty, but before he could come up with some excuse, a football came flying at Xyr and him, sent spiralling either by the rampaging bot or its intrepid hunters who had once again taken up the chase. Xyr managed to escape the assault by quickly sitting down next to Cris and ducking his head behind his date’s shoulder for cover. Emil, however, was too slow and had to save himself by dematerializing and reappearing in the door to sickbay, where he caught the ball before it could crash into his precious inner sanctum.

Emmet collapsed backwards onto the bench with another bout of raucous laughter, but Cris had had enough.

He grudgingly untangled Xyr’s fingers, which had somehow found their way into his belt loops again, pushed himself up from the bench, and roared: _“Everybody shut up!!”_

Surprisingly, for once, everybody actually listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 Just because Enoch is an amazing navigator and can pilot the ship perfectly through a vast variety of perils, doesn’t mean he will always perfectly remember such puny human concepts as “left” and “right” when faced with a quasi-demonic attack bot! [return to text]
> 
> 19 A particularly musical observer might have transcribed it something like this: beep-bibi-beeep beeep | beep-bibi-Beeep Beeeep | Beep-BIBI-BEEEEP BEEEEP | beeep-bibi-beeeeep [return to text]
> 
> 20 “Emmet, get your ass here _right now!_ ” [return to text]
> 
> 21 “It’s cute.” [return to text]


	8. Die Walküre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just quickly gonna repeat the content warning from the beginning of the series: **CW Mild Injury (including very brief mention of blood)**

In the sudden quiet, the little bot’s beeps echoed loudly as it continued its wild flight, weaving between support beams and furniture, desperately looking for a way out.

Cris kept his eyes on the erratic machine, as he beckoned Ian closer. “I want options. Can you just… I don’t know, turn it off?”

“Ah.” The engineers regretful tone made Cris look at him after all. He was fiddling with one of his tools and shifting his weight uncomfortably. “You see, Captain, I’m afraid when we upgraded the self-defence protocols it might have caused a wee override of some of the compliance executives in the main operational matrix and…”

“You did _what?_ ” The EHH sounded incensed, but Cris was still trying to catch up.

“Ian, in English!”

The engineer nervously twirled his hyperspanner. “Um…”

He looked to Enoch for help, who sighed. “She won’t listen to us anymore.”

“ _WHAT?!”_

Xyr pressed his face into Cris’s side, shaking distractingly with suppressed giggles, and Emmet let out another bark of laughter.

“You think this is funny?” The Hospitality Hologram looked ready to throw a punch as he glared at the ETH. “You have ruined a perfectly good cleaning bot!”

Emmet blinked up at him from where he was still sprawled on the bench and shrugged. “Now you have a Klingon bot.22 Much better that way.”

The Hospitality Hologram spluttered incoherently, but his protests went ignored, because the little bot chose that exact moment for another escape attempt.

With a desperate flurry of beeps, it sped up and launched itself down the small step towards sickbay. It landed with a heavy _thump_ , spun in place to orient itself, then made a valiant dash for the large doors — only to be stopped by the EMH’s strategically angled foot.

“No. I’ve told you before: I’m staying out of this business, and _you_ are staying out of my sickbay.” He gave the machine a nudge. “Go on. Shoo.”

The answering beep was truly pitiable.

“Oh, you poor little dear.” Xyr sounded deeply concerned for the little pest. He got up and headed over to crouch down next to Emil, reaching out towards the bot as if he was going to pet it. As soon as his hand got close, the machine spun around in a wild circle and slashed its knife across the Kendrian’s palm. Cris shouted in horror, but Xyr didn’t even flinch. Instead, he gave the bot an impressed smile. “Well aren’t you a valiant little warrior! You’re giving great honour to your name.”

Incredibly, the bot actually stopped its crazed spinning and beeping, though it still retreated a little, keeping its distance to Xyr and vibrating warily.

“Your ancestors would be very proud that you’re defending yourself with such skill”, the Kendrian crooned, gracing the bot with one of his warmest smiles.

The little pest beeped an eerie imitation of one of the EH’s self-congratulatory preening, and it scooted forward just enough to allow Xyr to touch his (still bleeding) hand to the top of its metal frame.

“Such a fierce little _tel be’vaj_.” The epithet was met with more smug beeping. “But we should really get you a better blade, that one isn’t fit for a Warrior Princess. Maybe a nice miniature _Daqtagh_?”23 The bot’s previously blue indicator light started flashing an excited red and to Cris’s utter astonishment, Xyr scooped the happily chattering machine into his arms and stood up.

As he slowly walked back to the table, he kept talking to the little bot as if it were a young child or some kind of pet. A very headstrong, stabby pet. “We’ll have to ask your daddy’s permission first, though. And Uncle Ian will have to turn you off for a little bit, while we get this horrible puny knife off again.” The bot’s beeps immediately turned incensed and its wheels started whirring ineffectually in the open air. “I know, I know”, Xyr soothed, “but it’s not so bad. You know, the captain has had to go under anaesthesia quite a few times to get fixed up after a heroic battle and your Uncle Emil has always taken really good care of him. I’m sure if we ask him, he’s gonna look after you, too.”

 _Uncle Emil_ pointed a threatening finger at Xyr’s back. “You keep me out of this!”

Xyr shot him a mischievous grin over his shoulder. He probably hadn’t intended anything more than to tease the EMH, but his words had given Cris a sudden, startling realization. He looked over at Emil, fighting to keep his face straight. “No, Xyr’s right”, he said slowly.

The EMH’s eyes went wide with indignation. “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to look after her”, Cris said, fixing the hologram in a steely gaze. “And you’re going to make sure that these clowns” he nodded towards the other four holograms, “don’t take advantage of her. After all, _you_ always say that as ship’s doctor, you’re responsible for all the souls on this vessel.”

There was a moment of silence as his words sunk in. Even the bot had quieted down, as if she could feel the shift taking place. Xyr, who was still lovingly cradling the little machine, arched his delicate brows in apparent confusion.

“They’ve given her a name and a mind of her own.” Cris explained with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure that puts her under Emil’s pastoral care.” He could feel his lips twitching as he held out a hand to the bot. “Welcome aboard, little _valQIS._ ” She beeped once, slightly wary, but didn’t protest any further as he patted the top of her casing.

It was worth it, if just for the look of sheer horror that dawned on the EMH’s face as he realized his captain was right. The bot might not be alive in any real way or even remotely self-aware, but she had a semblance of independence now. Barely more than that of a feral animal, but enough that Emil could no longer stay out of it and just let the others tinker with her without consequences. Cris allowed himself a grin. Served that smug bastard right for knowing about these shenanigans from the start and not putting a stop to them!

He looked down at the newest addition to his ship. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. The knife would have to go, of course, but once that was taken care of, how much harm could one cleaning bot do, really?24 And if the little pest started to cause trouble, Cris would have a lot of fun taking her _uncles_ to task for it. The thought filled him with warmth and he absentmindedly patted the bot again. Yes, this might actually turn out to be a good thing!

Cris looked up from the quietly humming Valkriss and nearly jerked back in surprise. Xyr was staring at him with an expression of such loving adoration it made Cris’s face flush and his insides melt. It was only a fraction of a second before the playful mask was back, but Cris knew from the aftershocks coursing through him that it hadn’t just been his imagination. Right now, the singer leaned over the robot he still held between them, a teasing smile making his eyes seem impossibly dark. He took a deep breath, though whether it was to make some witty comment or to prepare so he could kiss Cris for the next half hour straight would remain a mystery, because suddenly Enoch was standing next to them.

“Are you saying she’s _sentient?”_ The ENH’s eyes were ablaze with delight, and he sounded much too eager for Cris’s liking.

“No, she isn’t!”, the Hospitality Hologram blustered, full of righteous indignation. “She’s just a cleaning bot. _My_ cleaning bot!”

Valkriss beeped her discontent at this slight to her honour and she whirred her little wheels angrily, but she needn’t have worried.

“She _was_ your bot”, Emil said as he stalked over to the table, hands buried in his pockets and looking less than pleased at having to give up his hard-won neutrality. “I’ve told you; you shouldn’t keep tinkering with their programming and making them more and more independent. It’s a small wonder it even took any input from those three”, he waved a dismissive hand at their fellow holos, “to finally give her a push over into… well. Whatever you want to call this.” He looked down at the chittering Valkriss and shook his head.

Xyr used the momentary lull in the discussion to nudge Cris out of the way and gently set the bot on the table. She vibrated slightly, her indicator light blinking a staccato blue, but she finally seemed willing to stay still. “You be good now, little _valQIS_ ”, Xyr said warmly. He patted her on top of her cylindrical body and waved the Engineering Hologram over. “Uncle Ian is going to take care of you, and I’m going to patch up the captain.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “We wouldn’t want him to lose his foot after your fierce attack.”

The answering beep sounded like smug cackling in Cris’s ears, but it quickly turned into a low, wary chirp as Ian approached with a tool in his hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you, lassie”, he assured the bot, holding up his hands to placate her. “You’ll just be taking a wee nap and then you’ll be as good as new. Better, even!”, he added quickly at the suspicious beep.

Cris watched as the engineer carefully opened a flap at the bot’s side and a few moments later, the trembling and blinking began to slow as Valkriss powered down.

“We’re really not resetting her?” The EHH sounded utterly dejected.

“No”, Emil sighed. “I think we’re well past that.”

Enoch, who was practically bouncing with glee, slung an arm around the Hospitality Hologram’s shoulders. “Just think of all the wonderful new tricks we get to teach her now! She’s going to need something to do, and you’ve always said you could use an extra pair of hands around here. Or, well…” He looked down at the metal cylinder on the table. “Some extra wheels, anyway.”

“I guess that’s true”, the EHH mused, “It’ll be nice to have a slightly more intelligent bot to make sure the Jeffries tubes aren’t getting too filthy. It’s always such a hassle when one of them gets stuck and we have to beam it out again…”25

Cris shuddered slightly at the idea of their newest little project zipping through a maze of small shafts where none of its holographic handlers could follow her, and which would give her access to practically all parts of the ship. But that was something the holos would have to figure out; he could just lean back and yell at them if Valkriss ever ended up somewhere she shouldn’t. From the way the EMH winced, he had reached the same conclusion. Cris grinned again.

On the bench next to the table, Emmet finally sat up and looked over at his captain. “So, she’s staying?”, he asked, a spark in his eye giving the lie to his languid tone.

Cris nodded. “Yes, she’s staying.”

Emmet cocked his head. “And she gets to keep the knife, yes?”

“No!” Cris, Steward, and Emil all snapped at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 If you spoke the great vaqner’s native tongue and were so inclined, you might even say she was a “Klingenbot”…  
> (A massive thanks to my beta who pointed out this wonderful multilayered pun that probably isn’t fun to anyone but me, but I love it!) [return to text]
> 
> 23 A traditional Klingon ceremonial dagger (in as much as any weapon in the vicinity of a Klingon can be considered only ceremonial). [return to text]
> 
> 24 This is just one in a long line of instances of Cris good-naturedly adopting something or someone into his life, while completely underestimating their potential for causing utter chaos. For another example, might I direct you to a humble little story called [_Passengers_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702563/chapters/56910463), where Cris gets to explore the sad misjudgment of: “How annoying can a handful of students possibly be?” [return to text]
> 
> 25 Since the Jeffries Tubes aren’t outfitted with holo-emitters Steward can’t reach them himself. Fortunately, on a ship as small as Sirena, there are only few tubes to service, but the hollow beeping of a bot that has gotten itself stuck there has led some visitors to believe the ship might be haunted. [return to text]


	9. Escape

Cris limped over to the stairs at the front of the mess and sank onto the metal steps with an exhausted sigh. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago that he had led a reluctant Xyr up _Sirena’s_ loading ramp, but he felt like he had aged half a decade since then. He just wanted to finally get some time alone with this wonderful, beautiful man, who for some reason had chosen him, of all the people in the bar that night, to strike up a conversation with. Why couldn’t they have just a few hours where they weren’t interrupted by drunk Klingons looking to fight him over his taste in music, or crazed robots with nigh-operatic delusions of grandeur, or pushy holograms constantly vying with him for the Kendrian’s attention.

Right now, for instance, they were trying to draw him into their debate about the morality of giving a semi-sentient cleaning bot unfettered access to edged weapons.

Cris wondered whether he should come to his companion’s rescue, but Xyr seemed all too happy about the opportunity to discuss whether a _ghIntaq-_ spear or a _Daqtagh_ -dagger would be a more appropriate choice for the little pest. This was probably another hint from whatever fates Cris had angered that he should just give up any hope of spending the rest of the night with the gorgeous singer.

Fortunately, after a minute or so of being visibly torn between his opposition to arming little Valkriss and his wish to discuss all the minutiae of Klingon battle gear with his idol, the EMH finally got a grip on himself. He made some quiet comment and gestured in the direction of Cris to which Xyr replied with a dazzling smile and an eager nod. The attention made the EMH blush again ( _bastard!_ ), but he shooed the singer away, shaking his head fondly as he watched his retreating back.

“What was that about?”, Cris asked as Xyr came over, trying to keep as much suspicion as possible out of his voice.

“Oh, he just wanted me to make sure I had everything to take care of you for the rest of the night.” When Cris raised his eyebrows in alarm, Xyr waved a dermal regenerator at him. “So you don’t lose your foot.”26

“I’m not…”, Cris began, but he stopped himself as he saw the mischievous spark in the Kendrian’s eyes. “Yeah yeah, fragile human, alright. Just… get it over with if that means we can finally get out of here.”

Xyr smiled and leaned in to ghost the briefest of kisses on Cris’s cheek, then he crouched down in front of the stairs and started to roll up the torn leg of the other man’s trousers. Under normal circumstances, Cris would have bristled at the treatment. The cuts weren’t too deep, and they barely needed more than a quick cleaning and maybe some antiseptic. Hardly worth all the time it would take for the regenerator to do its magic. But right now, he didn’t complain. Not with Xyr gently cradling his foot and running his delicate thumb over Cris’s calf as he worked.

Behind them, the discussion seemed to finally be winding down. Ian had spread out a whole arsenal of tools on the table and Enoch was watching eagerly, ready to assist in the operation of separating the fierce warrior from her stabby accessory.

The Hospitality Horror was standing back a little, looking nervously at his bot that was about to be disassembled and then at the remnants of Cris’s glass, which had undergone a similar process earlier in the evening.

The EMH, noticing his colleague’s distress, fished a holographic broom out of the air and tossed it at Emmet’s head. “Make yourself useful and clean up your pet’s mess.”

The Hospitality Hologram wailed “She’s not a pet!” at the same moment Enoch complained: “She’s not Emmet’s!”

Emil rolled his eyes at both of them and raised his hands. “I’m staying out of it.”

Xyr interrupted his gentle ministrations and looked over his shoulder. “Do you think they’ll do right by her?”

Cris narrowed his eyes, considering the five holograms who were now debating whether they should generally be allowed to adopt pets (Enoch and Ian for, Emil and Steward against) and whether house plants counted as pets (a position held by Emmet, primarily because it drove the EHH up the wall).

“I’m sure Emil and Ian will keep them in line”, Cris finally admitted, even if it was begrudgingly. “They have just enough sense between them to make some halfway decent decisions.”

Xyr looked up at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “They’re really quite extraordinary, you know.”

Cris felt himself getting defensive immediately, and he set his jaw. “They’re just overzealous support-algorithms! Whoever thought it was a good idea to divide the ship’s core functionality into the harbingers of chaos and hubris over there deserves to have their _mavje’_ pierced by the blunt end of Valkriss’s _ghIntaq_!”

“Alright”, Xyr laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “Forget I said anything.”

Cris saw an opening and plucked the regenerator from Xyr’s hand. “Your turn”, he announced, as much to change the topic as anything else.

As predicted, the Kendrian immediately rolled his eyes, but before he could protest, Cris grabbed his wrist, gently forcing his injured hand palm up.

“You might want to consider your next words very carefully”, he murmured in a threatening tone. “I’m pretty sure Emil is still listening, and he would be _so_ disappointed to hear his great idol was not taking care of himself properly…”

Xyr cast a quick glance over his shoulder to where the EMH was very deliberately not looking in their direction. When he turned around again, there was a sudden menace in his grin that made the hairs on Cris’s neck stand on end — and not in a good way.

“You’re right”, the Kendrian cooed, his silky voice the quiet purr of some primordial feline on the prowl. “What was I thinking? I should really make sure I get some _proper_ medical attention. After all, Emil and I never got to finish our duet...”

Cris gaped at him in horror. He couldn’t remember when he had last been called on a bluff like that.

“I have to admit…” Xyr leaned forward slowly. “… I never thought my voice could mix so well with that of a human.” His hands came to rest on the step on either side of Cris’s shoulders and his face was mere inches away now, his hypnotizing eyes keeping the other man in thrall. “Makes you wonder if other things might be similarly… harmonious…”

The regenerator clattered to the floor as Cris grabbed Xyr’s uninjured hand and all but dragged him up the stairs.

They didn’t even make it halfway to his quarters before Xyr threw Cris against a stack of boxes and started kissing him with a vengeance.

A single cleaning bot zipped out behind the disturbed cargo, giving them an accusatory beep as it whirred past. Cris briefly wondered how he had never noticed these little beasts before and what else might be going on on _his_ ship that he had no idea of, but the thought vanished quickly as Xyr’s hands on his hips demanded his attention.

_“Alright, now slowly, just a wee bit lower…”_

_“Do you really think you should let Enoch do that? These bots are very delicate.”_

_“Ach, don’t worry lad, he’s got lots of experience fixing the navigational arrays.”_

_“Yeah, Steward, I’ve done more complicated repairs with half my sensor’s overloaded from a plasma storm!”_

_“But… Emil, can you —”_

_“Still staying out of it.”_

There was a loud crash, followed by the ENH’s slightly frantic cry of “It’s okay! I’ve got it! It’ll stop smoking any second!” and Emmet’s riotous laughter.

Xyr broke away to look at the railing behind him. “Sounds like they’re having a lot of fun down there.” He waggled his eyebrows at Cris in a horrifying imitation of the ENH. “Maybe we were too quick to leave after all.”

Cris had to stifle a frustrated growl. “You know, if you’d like me to leave you alone with them, just say so, I’m sure I can find other ways to spend my night.” He felt utterly ridiculous. He was jealous of a bunch of stupid holograms! But it had been a very long evening and he was getting really tired of having to share his date with them.

Apparently, his tone had been serious enough that Xyr finally dropped his teasing. He caught Cris’s gaze and the mesmerizing golden flecks in his dark eyes sparkled with fond affection. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never met anyone who had all of these different parts of themselves out on display like that. Hidden facets of their character milling about for people to talk to and get to know? That takes a lot of courage.”

Cris jerked back. “Hidden… Oh no, you’ve got this all wrong! I’m nothing like those five lunatics!”

“Oh really?” Xyr smiled and leaned down until his cool lips were almost brushing against Cris’s collar bone.

Cris’s breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes.

“From what I’ve seen tonight”, Xyr murmured against his skin, “you are just as clever…” He pressed a lingering kiss to Cris’s collar bone. “… and as funny …” His lips wandered up to kiss the crook of Cris’s neck. “… and as kind…” A burning trail of kisses along the line of his jaw. “… and as passionate as any of them.”

Xyr hesitated, his breath cool against the other man’s cheek.

Cris opened his eyes and found the Kendrian smiling down at him, all his teasing and bravado finally dropped away to reveal pure tenderness underneath. “I don’t want to spend my night with anyone but you. This wonderful, messy, glorious, human version of you. Okay?”

Cris drew in a sharp breath and nodded.

Xyr grinned, suddenly back in full operatic mode. “So please forgive me my trespasses and allow me to make them up to you by spending all night, worshipping at the altar of —”

“Oh my god, do you _never_ shut up?” Cris laughed as he grabbed Xyr’s face and drew him in for a passionate kiss.

_“I told you not to touch that!”_

_“Mmmmhh. Mmhmm!”_

_“Easy laddie, you would nae want to make it worse.”_

_“He’s right, Enoch. Hold still!”_

_“I_ told _you touching it would fuse your circuits.”_

_“Mmhhhh!”_

_“Oh, you think? We’ll see about that! Captain Rios, could you come and attend to the holographic emergency in the mess hall, please?”_

Cris broke away with a beleaguered sigh and leaned his forehead against Xyr’s. “Please tell me you have the transporter coordinates for your hotel.”

The Kendrian’s face split into a radiant smile and he grabbed Cris’s hand.

As they almost ran to the transporter pad, laughing all the way, Cris swore that this was the last time he would _ever_ bring a date on board his ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we reach the end of an exciting night of flirting, opera, and holo shenanigans!  
> I'm going to add a character tag for Xyr, since he has started to develop a bit of a life of his own (which I think is extremely on brand, tbh). He was recently hired for a brief cameo by the brilliant Regionalpancake, so if you feel like reading some beautifully written Raffi/Seven relationship building, check out [_Overlap_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987281/chapters/57700024) and you'll see a familiar face pop up around chapter 10.  
> If anyone else feels like taking Xyr or Valkriss for a bit of a spin, _please_ do, I would be utterly delighted to read about their exploits!
> 
>  **And now: A Final Footnote!**  
>  26 If you’re curious what kind of offerings Cris thought his EMH had suggested for a wild night with his date, might I direct your attention to the marvelous Thimblerig’s [_Una Viudita_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386198). [return to text]


End file.
